Come, hark you evil vixens. My love lies weaken, no laughter permeates from her desolate frame, she racks with pain from thine poisoned arrows. Cowardly villains, detestable scoundrel servants of Circean masters! Show you faces, unmask yourselves, the Rubicon is behind us. No laughter permeates from her frame and the home is, but a shadow of itself.
David’s wrath against the Philistines, The anger of the Son of man when merchants desecrated his father’s house, the anger that saw fire and brimstone rain on the hapless Gomorrans. Such is the passion you have thus stirred.
Let her rest her head on mine enfeebled chest, her battles mine to fight.